he was from louisiana. he worked in the railroads for a while as a porter. when i met him, he was -- he had a water pump here and a little pecan tree, and he was cutting down the pecan tree to burn fire to keep himself warm. he was five-foot-five, sleeping on a little iron crate. the crate was too small for him, so he had a wooden beekeeper's box for his head. there were -- i'll looking inside, and there were veinna sausage cans, empty ones, that had had put in the corners to keep the place from falling. literally, chickens have a better roost than had did, and this is where he was living. he came, you know, we found him a half century later, and he was nervous, thought we were government workers here to maybe inspect the house, shut it down, whatever. i said, new york city we're -- i said, no, we're here to tell his story. we're standing in the old lake basin. it was the biggest body of fresh water west of the mississippi, 800 square miles of lake right here in the middle of california, and these cotton grower from the south, chased out by the bull weevil c